


Trouble Down South

by EveningRose309



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Aftercare, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Even Footing, Author Is Sleep Deprived, Bathing/Washing, Bottom Original Percival Graves, Director Gellert Grindelwald, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff and Smut, Gellert Grindelwald Being Creepy, Good Gellert Grindelwald, Hand Jobs, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Childhood Sexual Abuse, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Knotting, Light Angst, M/M, Morning After, Morning Sex, Original Percival Graves is a Softie, Overstimulation, Past Sexual Abuse, Penis Engorgement, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sexual Repression, Top Gellert Grindelwald, Werewolf Original Percival Graves, ah well good-ish, creepy in a way, hard as stone but still a softie, still you know, tags there just as a precaution though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-24
Updated: 2020-05-24
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:27:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24356566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EveningRose309/pseuds/EveningRose309
Summary: The haze over his eyes as he continued his ministrations lasted only until he heard the sobs.'You idiot', Gellert cursed himself. 'You promised you’d make it good for him. Now look what you’ve done,'[Or the one where Graves is a wolf and Gellert gets carried away.]
Relationships: Original Percival Graves/Gellert Grindelwald
Kudos: 34





	Trouble Down South

**Author's Note:**

> Okay. So. This is different. And probably the only smut fic you'll ever get out of me. I've written smut before, just never posted it online. Sorry for any mistakes or inaccuracies. Go easy on me, please?

Dawn over New York City was a wondrous sight , if one knew how to appreciate it. The sky a warm bright yellow, the sun bleeding through the gaps of tall buildings, rays casting shadows and drawing silhouettes over drowsy city streets. The factories yet to start, their chimneys wrought of any smog and smoke, and thus the air was clean and fresh for only and that moment. For once Gellert was glad they’d been allowed a balcony. If he could wake to this instead of Nurmengard’s bone chilling, sight blinding snow peaks, he’d be a happy man and wouldn’t have half as many quips about his job or the fact that he wished he were nocturnal.

His moment was interrupted by an annoyed grumbling erupting from his bed sheets.

“Pardon, you’ll have to repeat that,” he said in cheek, narrowly avoiding the sock garter thrown his way as he reluctantly stalked to the bed. 

“I said,” the lump of white thread-count cover mumbled. “Close the door, it’s fucking cold.”

The sentence in it of itself deserved an award for absurdity. He raised his eyebrows accordingly.

“Cold?” the lump glared at him as he exclaimed this. 

“Yes, cold. Not all of us are born walrus skinned sharks that think ice water is a necessity in absolutely everything they eat.”

Gellert tutted, shaking his head. “I forget you American’s are summer children,” he said as he sat down, inspecting the ivory cocoon his bedmate was ensconced in. The sheets covered Graves from head to toe, layered so as to only leave a slit to where Gellert could meet his eyes.

“How’s the cock?” he asked plainly, one hand groping for said member through the cocoon in emphasis. He settled for a thigh instead, seeing as Graves was turned sideways.

“Sore,” the body grumbled, moaning as Gellert put his hand on him. “As is to be expected.”

“Want me to run a bath?”

A moment of quiet contemplation, then: “No. Later. Give it a while, for the sun to come up at least.”

One raised eyebrow. “You have work.”

A beat. “So?”

“You...want to call in late?”

A scoff. “I want to call in sick.”

“Sick?”

“Yeah.”

“Hmm.”

More silence, in which they did little more than breathe in the air and Gellert’s hand to knead ridges into Graves’ thigh. And then, a sigh.

“What?” and Gellert tried his best not to sound as incredulous as he was feeling.

“It’s just-”, a chuckle bubbled up from his throat suddenly, “-this is the first time I’ve ever heard you not want to rush off to work. You’re usually in a panic at this hour if you haven't at least gotten your hair fixed and your tie pins in place at your collar”. And don’t get him started on the coat. Or the scarves.

“You have known me-”, and the words were punctuated with ridicule, “-for the exact duration of twelve weeks.”

Gellert scoffed. “Time doesn’t negate familiarity, Graves. Or at least, not in our case.” _and because you and I are the same kind of person_. 

Sighing, the lump wriggled, loosening Graves’ form from the sheets as he sat up to meet Gellert’s gaze.

“Well,” he said. “It’s either I call in sick, or the whole bullpen is going to know I slept with the head of a foreign office. Don’t give me that look. They’ll see me limping in with a fucking gap between my legs and you standing next to me with that smug ass smirk on your face, and put two and two together.”

“Tch. My smile isn’t _that_ smug. And I’ll be in my wolf form, no one will notice.”

“Please. You think wolves don’t smirk? I’ve seen more smugness coming off from you and that secretary of yours than the entirety of our white collar mugshot albums.”

Gellert humphed. “That isn’t smugness- no, hear me out. Not from Rosier it isn’t. If you’re noticing that, then that means one of your aurors is about to have something very unfortunate happen to them in the near future.”

Graves glared. “You better hope not. If anything happens to Tina or the others, I’m holding you completely accountable.”

“Tina?” and somehow Graves looked even more annoyed when he said that.

“Goldstein-”, then a twitch when all he did was blink, “-pants? Checks in about a minute later than I do on weekdays? Beat’s near the Salemer’s church? Hot dogs?”

Hot dogs- oh. Oh. “The one with the pretty sister? The blonde who’s always smiling and makes really mean coffee? Doe Eyes?”

If anything Graves rolled his eyes. “That’s Queenie, and yes, they’re sisters. Queenie’s younger though, and always seems to make it a point to hang around Tina as much as possible, probably because she knows her big sister is a stress worker and doesn’t like to eat anything besides junk food.”

Gellert nodded. Huh. “Well, then, in that case then no, it’s not smugness.”

“What do you mean?”

Another raised eyebrow. “You think you’re the only brunet in this city who likes blondes?”

Graves blinked, the confusion in his eyes only rivaled by the horror as realisation dawned on them not a second later.

“No.”

“Yes.”

“Are you kidding me!”

“‘Fraid not.”

“Why!?”

Gellert shrugged. “I don’t make the rules.”

Graves heaved and let the pillows swallow him up as collapsed back down into them, the movement shrugging the sheets down lower. 

“You’re all insufferable.”

Gellert huffed. “Insufferable-” he said, but then his eyes caught something. Reaching over, his hands grazed a hint of pink peeking out from the ivory. “But you have to admit-”, he relished the hitch in his opposite’s breath as he teased the patch of skin, “-we are very, very well versed in bed.”

He curled his fingers around the base of Graves’ cock, already expanding, and the director let out a shuddering breath. 

“Don’t.”

“Why not?”

“I can’t-” his words were stopped short as a litany of soft moans and pants flitted from his mouth. Gellert took heed in this, relishing in the sweet little sounds bubbling up from the director’s lips as he stroked his waking cock, watching as the pink gradually darkened to blood red. A marvel really, just like the sunrise, how such a soft little thing could turn so angry at the mere touch of a hand. Already it was beginning to fill and swell, in ways only a wolf cock could, the bumps growing more pronounced, thickening for every round Gellert made between the root and the head. Of course, they were slight, for Graves wasn’t a full wolf, if a wolf at all, the markers of his ancient lineage only noticeable when Gellert squeezed the base, hard enough to feel and draw all matter of whines and keens from their host as he did so. He enjoyed seeing Graves’ like this really, having gotten a taste of the sight last night, when he’d gotten the poor wolfling all hot and bothered under him, keening and whining as he took his fill of that gorgeous member in hand. All that pride, all that vanity gone as Gellert pounded into him, the same hopelessly overwhelmed expression he held now painted all over his features, a sordid blushing mess. A wonder, Gellert thought, as he held the poor man’s legs apart with his knees, one hand down on his belly, the other pampering his engorged cock thoroughly to ensure he couldn’t get up even if he wanted to.

The haze over his eyes as he continued his ministrations lasted only until he heard the sobs. Gellert made himself stop, halting entirely his every movement, and shoving himself off. He saw Graves’ face clearly then. He was panting, hard, cheeks streaked and eyes wet as they pleaded up at him, a tremble in his lips as he shivered. _You idiot_ , Gellert cursed himself. _He’s new to this. He might be older, but he’s still new to this. You promised you’d make it good for him. Now look what you’ve done_.

What he’d done indeed was well deserving of the admonishment. The man was clearly overwhelmed, with his cock near double in size and the rest of him trembling like a scared animal. Slowly- another misjudgement he’d bitch at himself for later -very slowly, he gathered Graves up in his arms, careful not to graze the man’s angry red member too much. He cupped Graves’ cheek as he went, brushing away tears as he brought their foreheads together. More hiccups and sobs followed as he did so.

“Too-”, Graves shuddered, his voice raspily quiet, “-much. Too much. It- I can’t-”

“Shh. I know. I know,” he said, cradling the man closer to him. Graves whimpered, but let him do it.

He rocked Graves’ body for a little, then- in a rare moment of epiphany -leaned in and whispered softly into his ear. “My offer for the bath still stands.”

Graves’ breath hitched. “Won’t that-”

“It will, but it will make cleanup easier and won’t hurt as much after. I promise.” and don’t I always keep my promises?

The director heaved, and then- “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Mmm.”

And so he carried Graves to the ensuite. He wandlessly floated the towels into the tub, a decadent looking thing that could fit the both of them with some room to spare, and started the tap with warm water. He settled them both in once it was full, minding Graves’ back- and his cock -as he eased them- and thank Faust he hadn’t decided to put any clothes on when he went out onto the balcony -into the water. Maneuvering Graves so that his back was pressed to Gellert’s chest, he took one of the towels into his hand, watered it down, and wrapped it carefully around Graves’ cock. Within moments the director’s panting resumed anew, his whining going higher in pitch all the while being wracked with sobs and not so subtle tremors. Gellert kept his other hand around the man’s waist and arms to force them from flying and arching too far for Gellert to reach as he jerked him off. He did so slowly, but with the member as it was, all inflamed and engorged, every subtle movement he made was an overwhelming one for his partner, the stimulation only doubled but the coarse fabric of the towel.

“Shh,” he hushed into the man’s ear. “It’s okay, it’s okay. It won’t be long now.”

Graves keened and struggled in his arms. Indeed, not long after he said it even, the director came with a shrill, wet cry, his cock reaching full and peak hardness, the knot gone taut as strings of cum jetted from his slit and into the water. Gellert slowed his movements to a stop as he waited for the shivering and the sobbing to subside. 

He’d never had to do this, Gellert thought, kissing the back of Graves’ neck as he whispered sweet nothings and words of encouragement into the director’s ear. He’d never had to handle a werewolf’s first. He’d heard stories of course, from some of his own- albeit few and some even still working under him -bed partners. The pain, the overwhelming pleasure of a first knot for a male, the panic when their cock’s began to swell beyond their control, staying like that for hours on end even, the soreness after, the fatigue. They’d been young, of course, when they went through it, and attested that most had some form of guidance; fathers that knew and could help them, mothers who made them salves, brothers who gave tips. Partners, even, older ones who calmed and washed them down, as Gellert was doing now. 

Gellert was Graves’ first, that much he knew. Not his first bed partner of course, but the first to ever acknowledge or even want anything to do with his rather ‘unique’ anatomy. Graves’ himself had vividly denied it when Gellert had brought it up the night prior, and he had a sneaking suspicion the reaction had something to do with conditioning. It was fairly uncommon for pureblood families, especially large, infamous ones such as the Graveses, after all, to have any sort of brush with the werewolf gene, turned or otherwise. And Percival was part of the direct line no less, not some obscure cousin from an uncle nobody had ever heard of, so the sudden appearance of the gene must have shocked his family. His grandfather was a notorious proponent of speciesism- as Gellert’s was, though his old man broke off from that, seeing as most of their grunts were half bloods by the time he took the chair and would have done them no good to alienate their workforces -his father the same so, and Gellert was sure one or the other was responsible for the self loathing and drawer filled with too tight almost panty style underwear that constricted the man’s cock so much it laid flat down against his skin. A wonder how Graves survived, though he supposed most wolves were resilient. He himself was a dog after all- in the proverbial sense -so he should know.

“Done,” he softly exclaimed, tenderly kissing the nape of Graves’ nape as he took his hand away from the man’s groin. Graves sagged, shuddering down as he leaned further into Gellert’s chest 

“What about yours?” came the mumbled slur. Gellert chuckled.

“Mine is already dealt with,” and honestly he felt a smidgen guilty about it. All the noises and jerking movements Graves had made had sent him over the edge whilst he was taking care of him. He’d hardly even noticed, what with all his focus on cleaning Graves up and soaking the remnants of their coupling and Gellert’s ministrations from his underside, if not for the wave of relief that had crashed over him as Graves was calming down. “But all that matters right now is you.”

“M’fine,” then he laughed. “You know all this has done is cement the fact that I won’t be going to work. Can’t even walk. Move my legs.”

“Hmm. Then allow me to carry you,” which he did, standing on his own slightly trembling legs and holding Graves all the way to the bed.

“I’ll call Piquery,” he said, tuckning Graves into bed, making over the sheets around him. “Tell her you’re too tired, that yesterday’s raid took more out of you than you thought.”

Graves hummed. “What about your Pups?"

He laughed at that. “Der Schmutz Hunde Corps aren’t as helpless as your aurors, dear director. I’ll phone Vinda next, she can look after them while I’m gone.” _she’s used to it after all_. A sad thought, but Graves didn’t have to know that. 

Without another notion, he kissed the smooth wrinkle of Graves’ forehead. “Now sleep, you’re going to need it. Trust me.” 

Graves frowned. “All I’ve been doing since you had me was sleep. To think I was awake just a few minutes ago.”

Gellert chuckled. “That’s wolf sex for you. Don’t worry, it’ll wear off once you’ve gotten used to it. And after that, well, let’s just say our places might be switched in sometime in the future.”

“And you know this how?”

“Experience,” and he stopped at that, because relaying how three of the seven partners he’d ever had had been werewolves and how he knew better than anyone the stamina in those cocks of theirs was something he did not want to be doing so early into their relationship. Of which he still wasn’t sure if it was ever going to _be_ a relationship or would just end up like the other seven, amicable in terms of friendship though they were. Well, as friendly as officer-subordinate and spy-informant relations could be. Again, if they could even be called that, but he’d digress.

“You’re staying right?” Graves suddenly asked as he was making for the dial phone. And somehow, without a hint of hesitation or tremble in his voice Gellert answered:

“Yes.” Though he knew whether Graves meant forever or just in the room in general, accompanying him till the next sunrise in all naked glory, guiding him through missed years of sexual and cultural repression brought on by shitty upbringing would remain to be seen.

And frankly, shockingly, Gellert found that he couldn’t bring himself to care. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> If you're curious about this au, come shout at me on Tumblr: @evening-rose-309.  
> I have....no idea how to link. Did you have a good read?


End file.
